Those are milestone years, 25 and 10, or at least numbers that mean something. Twenty four and nine? Just numbers. Not significant. Not a quarter of a century or a decade. Just numbers. I seem to always stop short of committing to something solid. Numbers or relationships.
The person I was married to, and had children with, and shared my youth, is staying with me for awhile. He's had health problems for several years and they've gotten worse. Carotid tests and lung capacity checks and bypasses are what we face in the next couple of days. All of us.
Last night, after the heart cath showed that a stent wasn't what he needed, we came in from the hospital and had a quick dinner and talked. About mortality and money and arrangements and requests. Topics that are necessary during times like this.
Then we went to the deck and had a glass of wine and talked about inconsequentials - elections and children and the oil spill. And Al and Tipper Gore. This staunch conservative I was married to for almost twenty-five years expressed regret that they were separating. And said, "It's just a shame. After all they experienced - near death of a child, campaigns, kids marrying - for something to end after 40 years."
I'm sure that the Gores are telling themselves the same thing. They almost made it to that golden anniversary. They almost had the happily ever after.
I know what they are going through, though. You really can grow in different directions. You actually can look at someone who was your true north and wonder why that was the case. You can look at a person one more time across the dinner table and see a stranger. You can stop being excited that they are due in from work, or from a trip, and you can start resenting them for cutting into your time. You start envisioning your life without them. And it becomes your reality.
Almost.
Poignant...poetic...pensive...perfect.
ReplyDeleteI will have you both in my thoughts. We are all fragile when you peel back the layers.
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